It’s 11:30 on Friday night, and I’m still nowhere near being able to pick my choice for the winner of tomorrow’s Kentucky Derby. I have some history with the derby; I’ll see if I can discuss that in the morning. But for now, know this: The one time I attended the derby in person, I drank 16 mint juleps — and then fell down on the way to the bus that was going to bring us home, breaking all the glasses but one.

I think I might have been drunk.